7 November 2026

Foggy morning

Thursday, June 24th, 2010
Foggy trail, Beech Hill, Rockport, Maine, 24 June 2010.

Foggy trail.

Woke up, got out of bed, looked out the window and thought I was dead.

Butterfly wings, Beech Hill, Rockport, Maine, 24 June 2010.

Butterfly wings.

Well, not really—but the fog was so thick out there that I imagined I might’ve died and ended up in some kind of heavenly cloud. When dog and I reached the Beech Hill trail head, water was dripping from the trees and birdsong seemed more intimate, as if the birds were occupying the same room as we.

I noticed that black-and-white and chestnut-sided warblers are now singing their alternate, late-season songs: the former’s usual lazy, cyclical weesy-weesy-weesy taking a quick turn to another pitch; the latter’s simple “Please, please, pleased to meet you” become something of a warbling jumble. I neither saw nor heard any field sparrows today, but the other four species were evident. Catbirds seemed particularly defensive of their nests—to the point of actually letting themselves be photographed.

Savannah sparrow, Beech Hill, Rockport, Maine, 24 June 2010.

Savannah sparrow.

Water droplets clung to the vegetation, as they did yesterday. I didn’t mention that, yesterday, brushing up against a single bough of a sapling pine felt exactly like pouring a full glass of water down my sleeve. Today, I bumped a couple heavy-hanging branches with my hat and the water glass might as well have been poured over my head.

Veery, Beech Hill, Rockport, Maine, 24 June 2010.

Veery.

Coming up the wooded trail, I noticed the separated wings of a butterfly littering the path: something had eaten the meaty parts, leaving just the wings. Later, Jack saw something in the trailside undergrowth, and both of us watched a small, brown, furry creature scuttle along for a few feet, mostly hidden by leaves. I have no idea what it was.

No jays today, nor any alder flycatchers. But a cardinal sang sweetly from the base of the open trail, and titmice called from shady green wooded areas. Heard the purple finch in the spruces at the summit for the second straight day; also for two days running thought I heard bluebirds.

The stewards of the hill have been clearing and cleaning the trails, meantime, and both dog and I sincerely appreciate not having to brush up against so many berry bushes on our hikes. On the other hand, by moving aside the trunk of a fallen tree and a fair-sized stone in the path, the stewards have affected our customary routine: Jack no longer leaps the familiar tree trunk, and I no longer have the familiar stone to step on. Funny, the things we get used to.

Eventually, the fog burned off and the day turned warm and humid. I rode my bicycle in afternoon just as a line of thundershowers began to form. But I rode as fast as my legs would take me and managed to avoid getting drenched.

All in all a heavy, humid, summery, feeling-alive kind of day.

Gray catbird, Beech Hill, Rockport, Maine, 24 June 2010.

Gray catbird.

Beech Hill List
Beginning at 7 a.m., I walked all trails.

1. Red-eyed vireo (voice)
2. Ovenbird (voice)
3. Eastern phoebe
4. Black-capped chickadee
5. Cedar waxwing (voice)
6. Common yellowthroat
7. Chestnut-sided warbler
8. Rose-breasted grosbeak
9. Northern flicker (voice)
10. Veery
11. Gray catbird
12. Eastern towhee
13. American crow (voice)
14. American redstart (voice)
15. American robin
16. Black-and-white warbler (voice)
17. Mourning dove
18. American goldfinch
19. Song sparrow
20. Tree swallow
21. Nashville warbler (voice)
22. Savannah sparrow
23. Yellow warbler (voice)
24. Tufted titmouse (voice)
25. Chipping sparrow (voice)
26. White-throated sparrow (voice)
27. Northern cardinal (voice)
28. Hairy woodpecker (voice)
29. Purple finch

Elsewhere

30. House sparrow
31. Herring gull
32. Rock pigeon
33. Common grackle
34. European starling

Wet leaf, Beech Hill, Rockport, Maine, 24 June 2010.

Wet leaf.

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Bird Report is a (sometimes intermittent) record of the birds I encounter while hiking, see while driving, or spy outside my window. —Brian Willson



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